


Shuck It

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [59]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Dean, Camping, D/s, Dean gets fucked with an ear of corn, M/M, Top Cain, bizarre insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s whole body was trembling, cock aching and balls drawn up tight. He was right there. Right on that shaky high cusp almost close enough to see over. So needy and desperate that Cain could make him beg for anything. Well enough trained not to take it for himself. Eager to be good enough to be given it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shuck It

The rain pelting down on the nylon dome of the tent, while astoundingly loud, was not enough to drown out Dean’s desperate whimpers and groans. Head buried in his folded arms, his breath was warm in the little pocket between his face and the air mattress that dipped under his weight. Shifting his knees, the ground hard through the thin bottom of the tent and tarp liner, he ground his hips against the soft cotton blanket stretched across the top of the mattress. Kneeling at the foot of the mattress with his torso draped over it, Dean listened to the rain and bit his lip to keep his begging at bay. 

Cain was a fucking asshole. He had this down to an art. He knew just how to string Dean along with enough to keep him on edge and begging for more. Dean’s limbs were loose and his head was light from the few beers they’d had by the campfire before the rain forced them to lash down tarps and take cover in the tent. It was the middle of fucking August, muggy and scorching hot, and it had not rained for almost a full month. But now, as soon as they’d packed up and taken off for some quality alone time in the woods, now there was a deluge. 

One broad warm hand rubbed circles over his hips. Soothing. Rhythmic. Drag of callouses light and blunt finger nails lighter. Three turns in one direction, three turns in the other. It was as steady and gentle as the press of three fingers inside him. Which is to say, it was driving Dean crazy because he needed more. He needed it harder, rougher, wanted Cain to raise his hand and smack down with a crack to rival the thunderclaps that had passed. Wanted those fingers to dig in bruisingly to his hips. Wanted Cain to fuck up in to his body so deep Dean’d be seeping come through tomorrow morning.

Instead, what he got was a gentle petting and fingers he knew were more skilled stroking inside him skimming around his prostate. 

Groaning, hands clenching in the blankets, Dean pushed back onto Cain’s hand and ground forward against the less than satisfying air mattress. Rising up on his hands, he glared behind him. Cain was settled comfortably cross legged and looking like he was just enjoying the view. Their bags had been shoved and piled to the side, and goddamit, they were touching the tent walls and would get all wet from wicking the rain in. Dean could not give less of a shit about that though. 

Doing his best to sound menacing, Dean growled, “I swear to God if you don’t pick up the pace I will do the job my –ah – self …”

So he probably lost credibility when Cain crooked his fingers down and clamped a hand on Dean’s hip to pull him back. Fuck. Dean slumped forward again, legs trembling, body flushed hot and everything aching with want. 

“No. You won’t.”

Cain twisted his fingers around, and Dean felt his beard before hard teeth sunk in to the soft skin of his ass. He gave up any pretense of dignity when he finally started begging in earnest with little ‘please, please’ whimpers and groaned out ‘fuck me’s, and startled ‘goddamit’s when Cain ruthlessly focused on his prostate. 

Dean dared to sneak a hand down under his belly to wrap around his cock, and was immediately met with a slap to his ass hard enough to rock him forward. 

“Fuuuuuck, please Sir, want you to fuck me, please.”

Cain drew his fingers out, stretching them apart at the rim and rubbing a thumb against his fluttering muscle. Splaying his hands across Dean’s cheeks he pulled him wide open. Dean felt his face blush even hotter as he twisted around and watched Cain. 

Cain, regretfully, patted his hip and sighed. “We already had sex this morning. In a canoe.” 

“Dude, that was awesome.”

“It wasn’t even in the water. It was stationary. That’s not very impressive.”

“Yeah but you don’t have to _say_ that when you tell people, you can just say you fucked in a canoe. Another one to check off the bucket list.”

“You have a very long sexual bucket list.”

“So do you, old man, so get to it.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to slow down and enjoy life?”

Dean smirked cockily and shook his ass in front of Cain’s face, pushing back to fall in to his lap and squirming around in the small tent. Knocking the air mattress up a little and jostling with everything packed in the crammed space, Dean turned around and curled over Cain’s lap to take his cock in mouth. Thick and semi hard, it wasn’t quite all the way. And too soft for anal. Goddamit. See, Dean was still in his sexual prime at thirty four but Cain was creeping up to old age at one year shy of fifty. Dean always did go for the older men. But it kind of sucked that he pretty much only got one ride a day. The canoe sex was totally worth it. Just… 

“But I’m so horny.”

Dean was pretty much whining. 

Cain arched an eyebrow and pushed a hand through his hair as Dean kept determinedly sucking his cock like he could raise it from the dead with enough effort. 

“I can’t believe you packed lube and forgot to pack dildos.”

Pulling off, Dean rolled his eyes and lazily stroked spit slick soft skin. “Well I’m sorry I forgot to pack dildos for camping. Of course that should have been a priority.”

Okay, he was getting a little cranky. Being horny made him cranky. Actually, he was pretty much always horny. Being horny and getting teased made him cranky. 

“You need to drop that tone boy. So help me, I will find something in this camp to fuck you with if you don’t stop being a brat.”

“Ooooh, is that a _threat_ , Sir?”

Cain pulled him up forcibly by the hair. Standing – half stooping really with his cock just dangling tauntingly in front of Dean’s face – Cain plucked a rumpled pair of jeans off the floor and tugged them on before leaving the tent. Dean considered his options. Cain would be getting up to something. What he could find in these gods forsaken wilderness to stick up Dean’s ass, well Dean wasn’t too sure he wanted to know. But he was really curious. He could stay in the tent and jack off, but that wouldn’t be nearly as fun and Cain would punish him for it later. 

Pushing up to his knees, Dean rummaged around for another pair of jeans. He found a dirty pair of boxers and decided that was good enough. They were damp from lying on the floor, but everything in the fucking tent was damp from the fucking rain that had not let up for hours. The tent was supposed to be water resistant. Key word apparently being _resistant_ not _proof._

Grumbling to himself Dean realized that that he could hear the crickets and an owl outside. The rain had stopped – fucking finally. Stumbling out of the tent in his very tented boxers, Dean zipped it up after himself and contemplated his flip flops on the little folded tarp mat in front of the tent. It looked so water logged and muddy around the camp ground they would do pretty much jack shit. 

Wandering out bare foot, skin damp with sweat and the muggy humidity lingering in the air, Dean joyfully squished the mud in between his toes and played in a puddle for a minute before he walked out past the trees surrounding their tent to the little clearing where the picnic table was. They’d gotten a nice camp site, right up on the river and back from the camp path a ways hidden by trees and overgrowth. 

With the heavy cloud cover, it was too dark see much of anything but the point of light that was the electric lantern Cain had hung on the pole at the edge of the small clearing. Bright LED light radiated in a circle, and sitting at the picnic table was Cain, still bare chested with his long wavy hair tumbling loose down to broad strong shoulders. 

Shucking an ear of corn. 

“Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me.”

The tarp they’d lashed over the supplies on the table was folded back, the food bin open. Cain smirked at him. Peeled back a single husk slowly with the quiet rip silk sound. He could shuck an earn of corn in three seconds, and he was just sitting there, shucking a husk at a time, smiling at Dean. 

Of course, Dean’s cock was still rock hard and pushing up the front of his boxers. 

“Seriously? Dude come on. That is not going to fit.”

He had to have picked out the biggest ear of corn. 

“I’ve fit my fist inside your rectum. It’ll work.”

“One time, okay, that was one time.”

Cain just kept slowly shucking his corn. Dean padded over to the other side of the table and pulled the tarp back from the cooler, water sluicing down over his feet. The ice was mostly melted by now but the beer was still chilly. Getting out two, he popped the tops and drank half of one in a swallow, setting the other next to Cain and standing in front of him, staring him down. Dean never won staring contests with that man. 

Well, hell. Why not just add ‘fuck an ear of corn’ to the sexual bucket list.

Or… get fucked by an ear of corn. No, not quite. 

Fucked _with_ an ear of corn by his sadistic evil dom? Yeah that one had the best ring to it. 

Cain stripped the soft hair from the bare corn and carefully closed up the small garbage bag he’d gathered them in. He took a few sips of his beer. Stared at Dean. 

“Get the lube from the tent.”

“Yes Sir.”

Trotting back to the tent, balancing carefully with his dirty feet outside while he felt around for the bottle that was right fucking there like ten minutes ago, Dean may have been getting a little jittery when he zipped the tent back up and took the lube back to Cain. Man they had the weirdest fucking sexual history Dean’d had with anyone. But he was seriously getting turned on thinking about Cain doing dirty, dirty things to him with produce. 

Shifting his weight foot to foot while he waited – anticipation combined with imagination a very effective means of sadism – he scowled as Cain finished his beer. 

Dean licked his lips and stepped back when Cain stood. “Ok. So. It’s phallic, I get what I’ll be getting out of this. But come on man, why would you even _want_ to do this?”

Cain, lips ticked up underneath his bushy beard, moved to the end of the table. “I am a strange man and this amuses me greatly. Strip. Hands on the table. Head down.”

Dean nodded, shimmying out of his boxers trying not to fall on his ass in the slippery mud and plopping them on the bench to the picnic table before getting in to position. Hands on the table. Feet shoulder width apart. Torso parallel to the ground. Head down. Ass out. Routine was calming. 

Cain set the ear of corn next to his hand on the table, balanced standing up. Just left it there as he slicked his fingers and popped both thumbs into Dean’s ass, stretching the ring of muscle open wide and tugging before plunging three fingers in again. Curling his toes in the wet squelch of mud beneath his feet, Dean rolled his hips and arched his back. He could feel every drip of sweat running down his skin. Muggy night air like a pulsing live thing heavy against his body. The sound of the river near by was a lull. 

Fuck. Was he really going to. But. Maybe this was just a dare. A game. See who would fold first. If Dean would fold. Dean never folded. He was fucking stubborn and proud of it. Of course, so was Cain. Their temperaments could lead to heated escalations. It usually did. Dean tensed and relaxed, mouth hanging open so Cain could hear just what he was doing to Dean. Panting. Cain didn’t need to fuck him with that ear of corn. Dean could get off on his fingers. Hell he could get off on just Cain’s tongue. 

God he wanted to get fucked by that corn. That was so fucking weird. If you asked him to think about it, Dean couldn’t really tell you when his sexual life took a turn for what the fuck. At first, it was all nice normal BDSM between them, leather floggers and wooden paddles and restraints that were actually made to be restraints, not just duct tape and saran wrap and games of dare and fucking produce. 

But Dean liked it. The way his dick was leaking and his belly was sucked in tight waiting for it, he fucking loved it. Loved the things Cain made him do, the absolute authority he wielded and how easy it was for Dean’s body to respond and how fucking filthy it made him feel. 

“Fuck me, shit would you just – ahhh, fuck just fuck me with it.”

Cain curled his fingers down, pressing deep. “What’s that?”

“Please, _Sir_ , I want you to fuck me with that corn.”

Cain pulled his fingers out, ran his clean hand up the curve of Dean’s back, circled around his neck and tightened against his throat as Cain leaned over him. 

“Does it embarrass you boy?”

Dean tried not to whimper, he had some fucking pride but yes, yes it did embarrass him. And for fuck knows why that only made it so much better. He kept still, kept his head down. He was so close. Cain could – would and had – tie him down and make him suffer with torturously slow foreplay. 

“Yes. It does Sir.”

“Good.”

Dean’s whole body was trembling, cock aching and balls drawn up tight. He was right there. Right on that shaky high cusp almost close enough to see over. So needy and desperate that Cain could make him beg for anything. Well enough trained not to take it for himself. Eager to be good enough to be given it. 

He twitched head to toe when he felt the knobbly tip press slick against his stretched hole. Fucking shit. One hand settled firm at the small of his back, anchoring, holding. Dean let his head hang loose between his arms. Took a shuddering breath. Canted his ass up higher as he sloped his back down, bowing under the suggestion of Cain’s hand. Slowly, so slow he could feel every fucking ridge and bump, Cain eased it in. 

Groaning, Dean rolled his shoulders letting the ripple of muscle slide down his back into his hips as he fucked himself back onto it. Jesus, it could give some of his Bad Dragon dildos a run for their money. Although, an ear of corn wasn’t washable and reusable. 

He can feel it pressing deeper every bump at a time and Christ how long was it. Holding his breath, muscles pulled in taut, Cain’s hand rubbed a circle at the small of his back. 

“Breathe.”

Sucking down air, burning wood a lingering undertone to wet earth and the sweat dripping off his brow, Dean felt his body unravel as his breath hitched with a catch that lit his body up. Calloused fingers, blunt nails, dragging over his waist and curling around his body. He could feel Cain’s own bare, muddy feet press against the inside of his. Stepped up close, thighs brushing, Cain leaned against him and curled over his back. Paused. Thumb brushing against his stretched hole and it shot straight up his spine, that feeling, molten and liquid. 

Clenching his muscle, feeling the shape of it inside him, Dean heard himself breathing ragged with a high wheeze on the tail end of every exhale before every quavering inhale. Fingers dragging over his hip and down, tugging at the curls at the base of his cock and moving to heft his balls and roll. Lower. Stretching wide across the inside of his thighs, pressing into muscle and tugging. Pulling skin tight and scratching. Squeezing, thick stocky thighs, he wanted bruises there come morning to match the splay of Cain’s hand. 

When Cain twisted his wrist, started fucking it inside him, tiny little bump bump erratic texture driving him wild rubbing the rim raw, Dean dropped on to his elbows. Couldn’t keep up anymore, head thunked onto wet swollen wood and his feet sliding in the mud as his legs gave out. Cain’s strong arm tensed around his waist, kept him up, kept pace for both of them. Soft beard brushing along his upper back slick with sweat, lips against his nape. Breath still somehow hot even though his skin was burning shuddered across his shoulders. Teeth harsh in his skin, digging. 

“You can let go boy.”

Feeling the drag, push slide and the gut deep clench of his body drawing it back in, hips snapping back as he lost balance and control, Dean tip tilted over the edge with a ragged groan wrenched up out of him. Cain’s teeth in the back of his neck, one hand clamped on a hip, his other arm working a fast steady rhythm to keep pushing even though Dean’s already tipped, he drew it out until Dean was hollowed. Until he sagged loose and undone against the picnic table gasping for air. Spent and fucked raw on an ear of goddam corn. 

Fuck, he’s never going to live this one down. 

Cain dropped it in the mud and hauled Dean upright. Turned him around so he could park his ass on the hard edge of the wood table. Dean was left swaying for a minute, but Cain came back with a small bowl of water and a wash cloth. Tipsy high from a good hard orgasm, Dean submitted easily to being taken care of. 

It’s easy to make him docile, if you just fuck the stubbornness out of him. 

Dragged back to the tent, face and belly wiped down, Dean watched curiously as Cain crouched in front of him, pulling a leg up. Dean damn near fell on his ass. 

“Brace your hand on my shoulder.”

Oh. Yeah that would be a good idea. Cain washed one foot and set it on the mostly clean tarp mat before washing the other and shooing Dean back in to the tent. Dean straightened out the blankets and pulled their bags away from the tent walls so they didn’t end up even more sopping wet. He could hear Cain lashing the tarp down over the table again. It wasn’t long before the tent door zipper snicked open and Cain shuffled in, dirty jeans folded neatly and shoved in the corner. 

His naked skin was sticky from the humidity and sweat, thick curly fur on his chest flattened. Dean still snuggled in close when Cain crawled onto the mattress, slinging an arm and a leg over him and burying his face in Cain’s neck. Cain wrapped an arm around his shoulder, lingered with a kiss to his brow as they situated awkwardly on the air mattress that just didn’t want to settle. 

When it was finally still, and quiet, the hum of insects and the steady river a good lullaby, Dean sighed contentedly.

“Thank you Sir.”

Cain rubbed a hand down his arm, pulling it closer and holding their hands together. 

“I expect you up at dawn to make the campfire.”

“Yeah, yeah.”


End file.
